


we're miles from way back when

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: The Monster's Darling [6]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Language, M/M, Mild Gore, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9993083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. “Cry told me one day you’d get tired of me,” Jack murmurs. His demeanor shifts, and Dark watches him as he shuts down completely. “That one day you’d slit my throat with your cock still in me, and I’d be none the wiser.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Feelings is an actual tag on this fic now and I'm damn proud of it. 
> 
> This universe is getting so crazy, I tell you. But I am having the most fun in the world writing it. It's twisted and dark and grim, but still somehow enchanting for me--and I'm glad you all seem to like it as well! 
> 
> Seriously, thanks so much for the continued positive response. It means so much! 
> 
> I'll ramble more in a bit. Onto the story--enjoy! 
> 
> Title from "Shame" by Bastille.

The sun beats down on his red locks hard as he strolls into the little restaurant.

It doesn’t take Dark long to spot him, because it has to be him, he’s the only one it could be. Dark knows nothing of him aside from a name, but he commands the room with a warm sense of energy, and he’s the only one that Jack could have chosen.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he approaches the counter, taking out his modified badge that Jules had made for him. A faux name with a faked insignia, but it’ll do, because he doubts Mark Fischbach is the type to question authority. 

Mark looks up at him, offering a soft smile before Dark flips open the badge, showing him. Mark’s lips twist into a frown, wide brown eyes curious, confused. 

“My name’s Inspector Morris Warren,” Dark lies easily. “Mr. Mark Fischbach, correct? I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding the recent disappearance of Jack McLoughlin.” 

Watching the color drain from Mark’s face is almost comical. Over his shoulder, he murmurs, “Hey, Suzy? I’m gonna step out for a bit.” 

Dark steps back as Mark steps around the counter, gesturing for him to follow, presumably to a quieter place. They head out the back door and Dark waits a solid three seconds before asking, “So. I’ve been told you had intimate relations with Mr. McLoughlin?”

It’s too easy, creating this persona--this impartial, unbiased investigator, not terribly concerned with the young man known as Jack. He stares at him through his sunglasses, unmoving, waiting. Mark looks horribly crushed. 

“Yes,” he admits, quiet and gentle. “He was my boyfriend for about a year.”

“And I presume from your expression that’s no longer the case?” Dark prompts.

Mark has the grace to look thoughtful. Dark can’t help but stare at him--he’s a little bit shorter than himself, perhaps by a couple of inches, with a similar build and completely natural hair. He’s wearing glasses, and his eyes are a little brighter, less harsh--a warmer brown hue. He looks to be Asian, maybe--Korean? But for all intents and purposes, he’s familiar.

It’s almost like looking at himself in another timeline--some other place. Some other lifetime. 

“It’s complicated,” Mark sighs. “I--I said some things I’m not proud of. He...I found out he was cheating on me.” 

“And that upset you?” Dark remains as stone-faced as he can manage. “Did he offer an explanation?” 

“He tried,” Mark shakes his head. “I have a wicked temper. But I told him to get out of my apartment, and in a fit of fury, he left. I...I haven’t seen him since.”

“How long ago was that?” Dark asks, though he already knows the answer. Two weeks. 

Mark crosses his arms. “Two weeks. I thought he was just avoiding me. There have been no calls, or texts, and even when I call him it goes straight to voicemail. He hasn’t come to get his things out of my apartment, either. I tried calling Felix, his friend, but he says he hasn’t heard from him either.” 

Dark gazes at him, reading his face, and he can see precisely why Jack loves him. Calm and considerate, caring, and perhaps everything Dark will never be. 

“Is he okay?” Mark finally asks. “Do you know? Are you allowed to tell me? I--I’m so worried. I know that we fought but I still--I still care about him.” 

“He’s fine,” Dark responds, granting him one single favor. The only one he’ll ever give him. “I can’t explain to you the specifics, but he’s in working order, all things considered.”

“He must hate me,” Mark bemoans, crestfallen. “I can’t believe I threw him out like I did. He could’ve been hurt, and I--”

“He was kidnapped because of you,” Dark’s voice drips with a venom he’s startled by. These words aren’t meant to leave him, but they tumble out with about as much grace as a child has. “Because of your transgression, he wandered into downtown, and was picked up by a slavery organization.”

The look on the other’s face is mortifying. He can see the exact moment in which Mark’s heart breaks, and it’s satisfying. Dark’s stomach twists in a sick sense of happiness. Good. He should feel bad. 

“God. Oh, god. I-I have to apologize, I have to make sure he’s alright,” Mark whispers, beginning to babble. He tangles his fingers in his hair. “God. God! I have to see him. Please, sir, can you take me to him?”

“Absolutely not,” Dark takes too much joy in shutting him down. “I won’t lie to you, Mr. Fischbach, you’re very much a suspect in this investigation right now. Besides, I’m sure that you’re the last person Mr. McLoughlin wishes to see.” 

It takes all of his strength to suppress his smile at Mark’s quickly reddening cheeks, shame and embarrassment flooding him. “I understand. But for what it’s worth, I--I didn’t organize that--I would never hurt him, not willingly. Ask me what you want but I--I didn’t want to hurt him.” 

“Yes, I’m sure you didn’t,” Dark drawls, not caring if it comes off sarcastic. “Now, if you please, Mr. Fischbach, recap to me where you were the night of November 13.” 

~~

It’s late when Dark gets home, and Jack is already sleeping. 

He’s been staying with him for about a week now, taking a “sick leave” and getting his work sent to his laptop, which he taps away on early in the morning when Dark wakes up and is stowed carefully away when Dark goes to sleep. Jack hasn’t said much since the first night, except for argue when Dark insisted he stay for the time being. 

“I’ll be damned if I let you out of this house and into their hands again,” Dark had seethed. “You’re going to stay here if I have to handcuff you to this bed, Jack. I’m dead serious.”

So when Dark returns that night, Jack is curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his smaller frame. The whole scene feels oddly domestic, but Dark is too tired to care as he approaches him, easily scooping him up.

He’s still incredibly bothered by how little he weighs these days--it’s been a week of force feeding him and fighting him, and though he’s regained some of his color, he still seems cold and distant. 

Not that Dark particularly cares. He’s also cold and distant, and it’s fitting that Jack finally adopts this mentality after all this time. But even so, it’s still weird having Jack, the only bright thing in his life, act like a goddamn raincloud. 

In the gentlest movement he can muster, Dark sets Jack down on the bed, pulling the sheets over him. Dark pads towards the bathroom to clean up. 

He emerges about ten minutes later to see Jack’s big blue eyes staring at him. 

“Sleep,” Dark tells him. “It’s late.” 

“Cry told me something,” Jack breathes. “It’s been haunting me. He told me not to tell you.” 

“Cry says a lot of stupid shit,” Dark replies “But by all means, enlighten me. He was probably trying to scare you.”

“I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll be upset,” Jack says. “You’ll hurt me. You’ll kill me. He said you’d do that, too.” 

Dark rolls his eyes. “Again, Cry says a lot of stupid shit. Baby, I’m too tired right now to lay a finger on you, anyhow.”

“But you could,” he whispers. “And you might. You know, when I was in that room, all I could think was--was...I wanted to live. I wanted to live so badly. I wanted them to kill me because I didn’t want to hurt anymore, but I also wanted to live. You don’t know what that’s like, do you?”

Dark sighs. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“I don’t know,” Jack sighs. He doesn’t seem like he’s slept well since the incident. “Do you love me?” 

His lips twist into a scowl. “I don’t love anyone.”

“Cry said you did.”

“Cry’s a fool,” Dark retorts. “He spouts off nonsense to dig deeper and deeper into your psyche. Then he kills you, laughing the entire way as he rips out your throat.”

Jack rolls over, his back now facing him. Dark shakes his head. “Your estranged lover apologizes for throwing you out.”

At this, he perks up, sitting up in a flash. “You went to see Mark?”

There’s a note of panic to his voice. Dark regards him warily. “Yes. I wanted to be sure you didn’t lie to me. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him who I was. I didn’t even say I was your _college friend_ as you so put me.” 

“Why?” Jack asks, and didn’t Dark just answer this question? “You shouldn’t have. How did you get to him? Did you go to the restaurant? _Why_?”

“Settle down before you bust a blood vessel or something,” Dark grouses, rolling his eyes again. “I was being certain he had nothing to do with Cry.” 

“He wouldn’t,” he murmurs. “Don’t accuse him of that. He’s a good guy.”

Dark begins to have flashbacks of the day Jack left him, when he said those exact same words. _He’s a good guy_. Like Dark isn’t. Dark has never been a good person.

“I should go and see him,” Jack says, rubbing his eyes. “Shouldn’t I? He’s probably worried sick.” 

“Until I rule him out as a member of Cry’s organization,” Dark drawls. “You’re staying here.” 

Jack flops himself back onto the bed, the springs creaking. Letting out an enraged puff of air, he’s like a child. “Right back into the lion’s den I go.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Dark snips. 

Jack glares. “You know exactly what it means.”

Dark wonders if drugging him would make him go to sleep, and it would, but he’s not in the mood to fight with him in the following morning. His life has gotten exponentially harder since Jack McLoughlin stumbled into it. 

“The last thing I want is for your heart to be sent to me as a message,” Dark tells him. “Because that’s exactly the kind of thing Cry would do. You don’t know him like I do. What he does would make you sick--sicker than I could ever make you.” 

“But Mark has nothing to do with him!” Jack shouts. Dark had forgotten what powerful lungs he has. “How could you even think that he does?” 

“Since we’re on the subject of your beloved Mark, are we not going to mention how much like me he looks?” Dark snarls. “Is that why you kept him so secret, baby? Because he’s everything you want me to be, and yet you still come crawling back to me every goddamn time?”

Jack’s cheeks ignite in the little light. He’s so red, fury evident. “That’s not true.”

“What isn’t true?” Dark fires back. He really shouldn’t be this angry. But something is shaking in his core, and he doesn’t like it. “The fact that he looks like me from another timeline, in another life, or that you deliberately never told me a goddamn thing about him, just to prevent this very encounter? Or do you really believe that after all this time, you haven’t kept wandering back to me every chance you get?”

“Shut up!” Jack spits back, his voice acid. “I don’t owe you anything!”

“You owe me _everything_ ,” Dark sneers. 

And then Jack goes quiet, his gaze like steel against him. Dark is struck with an inexplicable feeling, something somber and irritated all at once. He knows his words are true, but he feels like he’s lying to Jack, as well, and for an odd reason that bothers him. 

“Cry told me one day you’d get tired of me,” Jack murmurs. His demeanor shifts, and Dark watches him as he shuts down completely. “That one day you’d slit my throat with your cock still in me, and I’d be none the wiser.”

“You really believe him, don’t you?” his lips curl into a sneer. Dark finally approaches where Jack lays, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’m sure he promised you sanctuary in that event?” 

Jack’s blue eyes shimmer, glassy and soft. “He told me if I killed you, I could come work for him. He said I had...qualities that he could use.” 

Dark lets out a slow, steadying breath. He’s always been careful to control his temper around Jack, because he flinches if he raises his voice, and he doesn’t like it when Dark’s angry, for any reason. 

“Cry is manipulating you,” he says evenly. “Now that he knows about you, he will say _anything_ to turn you against me, to take you away. Do you think he’ll treat you as kindly? Do you think he’ll let you live your normal life? That he’ll actually give a single shit about you?” 

Jack is quiet. Dark answers for him. “Cry is a sick, twisted man. He enjoys torturing others for the sake of it. He will turn you into a mere husk, sapping every inch of happiness from your very being. He will hurt you, break bones, tear you open, and let any number of awful people have their disgusting way with you. Then, when you’re broken beyond repair, he’ll sell you to even more twisted people to use like a toy. Don’t make the mistake of getting involved with him.”

“I got involved with you,” Jack says, his voice a monotone. If Dark’s words scare him, he doesn’t show it. “Isn’t that a mistake?” 

“Perhaps,” Dark gives him a wry smile. “But I rather like you, so there’s always that.” 

“But you don’t love me.”

“Do I have to?” Dark sighs, exasperated that they’ve ended up back here. “Do you have to hear all these grand declarations for me to prove something you know I’m not capable of? Is me taking care of you throughout the years, letting you come in and out, making sure no one hurts you, touches you, coming after you when you were taken--is all of that not enough for you?” 

His boy closes his eyes, soft and insecure. “I wanted to hear it, just once. That’s all.” 

_And I could say it_ , Dark thinks. _I could say it and you would never leave again. I could say it and I could watch the tension from your shoulders fade, the light ignite in your eyes, and I would never have to say it again._

But saying it seems impossible. Because he doesn’t. Not really. It would be lying.

 _But you do_ , his mind supplies, and that’s stupid. He doesn’t. _It isn’t a lie._

“What I feel for you, Jack, is unparalleled by anyone,” he admits, finally. It’s as much as he can manage. “Whether you believe that or not.”

It’s then that Jack decides to lay back down, and in the stillness of the bedroom, it kind of looks like peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated--seriously, thank you so, so much!
> 
> And as always--please feel free to come and chat with me about this fic--or anything, really--over on my tumblr! I enjoy hearing from you guys! :D


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